


numbers

by The_Resurrection_3D



Category: Yin Yang Yo!
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Sharing a Body, mentioned Yin/Yuck and Yin/Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Resurrection_3D/pseuds/The_Resurrection_3D
Summary: There’s nothing to do but sit and watch for hours.





	numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Going through old stuff at one in the morning; you know how it is. This was written back in December of 2016 and only posted on Tumblr, but I've since remade the blog that is was hosted on. Oh well. Nothing's been edited but some spelling mistakes and line-spacing. 
> 
> First line is from the song "numbers" by daughter if I recall correctly.

_I feel numb in this kingdom_

made for me out of greasy pizza boxes and the glass of vodka bottles glued back together. Behind me is the ocean, and in front of me is her, her face reflected in a million shards in the wall they built and called a TV screen. There’s nothing to do but sit and watch for hours. You seem to agree.

 _Her_ is the subject we seem to agree on most often, despite the absurdity of playing love rival to yourself. But it’s a kind of absurdity we’re used to. She is not. Not for me, anyway.

But I think you agree, because you too watch her for hours, silently studying her as you comb her hair.

I feel your head still pound under my feet as you brush, brush, trying not to vomit. The ocean calls behind me, but it’s an angry cry. How much you hate me, how every word from my throat is a reminder far worse than what comes out of yours.

You’re being a stubborn fool again, but your method of coping this time around is good enough for me. Brush. Brush. Smooth as milk, pink like a rose.

She asked you why and you told her to be quiet.

She rests in your lap, her grip on your calf finally relaxing. But her body is still curled tight, goosebumps visible all down her neck. Neither of us care.

Brush. Brush. I feel the ocean reach out to me,  acid eating the sand as its waves reach for my ankles.  Brush. Brush.

Up to my waist. Brush. (Brush.)

The TV has melted but the million reflections of her still remain in sharp focus.

B(rush. Brus)h.

(I am lost at sea) and I am drowning in shallow water. We have no beginning and no end.


End file.
